Pleasance
by butterfly-pieces
Summary: Spock finds himself fascinated — and secretly tortured — by the exceptional student that is Cadet Uhura. One-Shot.


Cadet Uhura is unlike any of his students — something he begins to realize almost immediately.

While most of his students eye his arrival with foreboding and panic, she looks at him with something not unlike appraisal.

Even as his lectures go on and on, forcing students to never break eye-contact from their PADDs, with his eyes occasionally finding her amongst the rest of the Cadets, he sees her reactions to every thing he says with the turn of her lip or the furrow of her brow.

Once, she even smiled — or it could've been a laugh — he's not certain, and the inability to be certain — to find logic in her — finds him incredibly troubled.

Her answers to his questions, in class and her written assignments, are nearly flawless. He often finds room to correct her — does his very best to, for the sake of her improvement, and she always rises to the occasion, learning with an ability that would have him see her as Vulcan instead of a mere human.

So, it is with careful consideration on the matter, that Commander Spock decides to act, ignoring that his human half might be getting the better part of himself — an unparalleled, emotionally-driven curiosity.

"Cadet Uhura, if I may speak to you before you take your leave of my class," he has his hands clasped behind his back, per usual, and is standing next to the desk, watching as the rest of the students flee his class as if searching of freedom — or medical assistance.

Uhura looks at him in surprise, a pleasant surprise — _**fascinating**_— and utters a few words to the female companion who sits next to her, before turning her back to face him.

She approaches Spock with an air of respect, her stature flawless.

"Yes, Commander?"

He feels lost for a second — a fragment of a second that seems to stretch into forever in his mind, utterly impossible — on how her eyes seem to smile at him.

How can they?

"I hope I am not keeping you from your duties as a student."

It's more of a question, than a statement, and somehow Cadet Uhura knows, because she answers, again, with a smile, "Not at all, Commander."

Although Cadet Uhura has taken minutes of his time after class, asking him what he judges to be the most fascinating questions that expose different sides to his lessons most students do not touch — either they do not see it or would rather avoid it entirely — he often sees her in a hurry to be elsewhere, calm enough to listen to him, but never quite keeping still as she does.

However, now that he has addressed her, she seems incredibly still, and watchful.

_**Fascinating.**_

"It is my supposition that you take a rather exceptional enjoyment from my lessons, would I be correct in such an assumption?"

Her eyes meet the floor for a second before meeting his eyes, and they're smiling again, making him feel a tug that is both confusing and enticing — a dangerous feeling entirely.

"You would be," she agrees, "I do take a certain pleasance from your lessons, Commander. I've learned more these past weeks than I've learned in an entire year."

While her words should be meant to praise him for his performance as her teacher, it is incredibly shadowed by the fact that only an exemplary student would see him as such, and that is even more shadowed by the use of the word 'pleasance'.

It's as if she stole the word from his very lips.

"I see," he keeps his face composed, as he contemplates his next course of action. He had not predicted her response to provoke this sort of response from him — it's unacceptable, yet, not entirely unwelcome.

"Commander? I'm sorry, but have I offended you in some way?" Her eyes are no longer smiling, and he sees a line of concern over her forehead. He wishes to explore her conclusion, as he does not see a way for it to have reached to such a thought.

"I am unfamiliar with the offense to which you refer, Cadet," he tilts his head slightly, awaiting her answer.

"Oh," she smiles again in silent understanding — an understanding he is yet to be aware of — as she goes on, "I'm sorry, Commander, but since I usually bombard you with questions after class, and have been known to chase you to your office, on occasion, which, I understand, would be seen as invasive from any student, I simply thought—"

It's his turn to smile — although he's not sure his eyes have the capacity hers have — and the tug at the corner of his lips is nearly invisible, so he doubts his smile will be witnessed by anyone.

He interrupts her, "Allow me to ease your feeling of discomfort by answering the question which was momentarily unclear to me, Cadet, by saying that no, there exists no possibility of offense in your actions. On the contrary, I find our conversations outside of class quite gratifying, to know that a student cares deeply enough to wish to explore matters beyond what is stated inside the classroom is an experience every instructor should welcome from his student."

She smiles again, with her eyes and her lips, entrancing him once again, "In that case, I should say the feeling is mutual."

"Indeed."

They're both aware of the lack of words between them for the moment, and she quickly pulls out her PADD from her bag, showing him a series of assignments which aren't due for another week, yet she is nearing their completion with absolute grace.

He wouldn't normally correct an assignment beforehand but, with Uhura, he gives her a few recommendations, things she should further explore and verify, in order to make her assignment as impeccable as it often is. They're things, he imagines, she would've immediately caught upon revision before handing in, but he's thankful for the stolen time in which he caught it first, and allowed her to stay by him, for more time than required.

As they both leave the classroom, she follows him to his office, and they converse of other things, in other languages — just one in particular for now, Vulcan.

He finds that he is further entranced by the way she enunciates each syllable, and how, even when she has to pause to properly form the unification of words, she does it with such a subtle grace, he finds himself in awe.

When they reach his office, her eyes dart to his collection of books — as they always do — and he watches her for a small instance when the conclusion comes to him, rather abrasively.

"Cadet Uhura," he's yet to take a seat behind his desk, and after pulling down the tunic of his uniform, he meets her eyes. Her eyes are wide, probably sensing something underneath his new tone.

Irritation, perhaps?

He shouldn't be irritated — even if he is half-human, it's not a feeling he can fathom at the moment. The conclusion is only logical, and they would both benefit from it.

Then why does it stir him so?

"Have you requested a position as a Teacher's Aide in any of your courses this semester? It is my belief they would benefit greatly from you."

A student as exceptional such as she would no doubt receive personal requests from many an instructor, without question.

"I have not, Commander, though I have been recommended to some, I was hoping to work with something closer to my area of interest," she keeps her hands behind her back, much like he does, but the look is different on her — she's always different.

"Advanced Phonology being your area of interest," he inquiries, and she nods.

"Yes, but I've been told you weren't known to take students as aides."

"Indeed, I am not," he agrees, knowing how well he's been known in the Academy for his reputation. "However, you've displayed an exceptional disposition as a student and linguist, and it would be illogical for me to deny you an opportunity that would benefit us both."

She bites on her lower lip in what should be excitement, as her eyes display the joy her lips choose to keep silent for the moment, "It would be an honor to work as your aide, Commander."

"Spock," he clears his throat, averting her gaze by re-organizing a set of PADDs that were already adequately organized over his desk. "I believe, since we will be working in close proximity of each other, that certain formalities may be excused, when it is just the two of us."

"Certainly, Spock," and the sound of his name on her lips force him to become perfectly still for a second, "And you may call me Nyota, when it's just the two of us," she echoes, extending her hand for him to take.

He looks at it longer than he should have, he realizes, because she looks like she's about to pull it back, but he catches it.

Such a small hand it is, yet so firm, and it takes all of his strength not to explore it further.

"I'll be seeing you in my office tomorrow, Nyota, 0800. I'll alert the department."

She nods, "Thank you, Commander—Spock," she quickly corrects, turning for the door, and as it slides open, she pauses by the door frame, turning around and causing her hair to flip. "0800."

She leaves, finally, but the effect the mere numbers left behind leave him absolutely wordless, save for one word, '_**Fascinating**_'.

Little does Spock know, Nyota is more fascinating than he'll ever understand.

Nyota has been gunning for the position as his aid from the first day of class, but once she learned — by her uncanny ability to listen and observe — that he was not known to take aides or appreciate direct requests of any kind, she chose a more subtle approach — to make herself known by her skill and ability; to let _**him**_ notice _**her**_, instead of aggravating him with endless pleas, because who would want to aggravate a Vulcan when there are other pleasant forms of persuasion?

Clearly, it worked, but her tactic will result in more than merely having her as his aide.

Both parties will experience a pleasance of sorts, lying not in the passion for Advanced Phonology, but the passion within themselves.


End file.
